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Wednesday, August 29, 2012

The Great Westfield High Nose Whistler of 1961

The Great Westfield High Nose Whistler of 1961

“Pssst Frog, check this out.”  Frog and I shared a table in 7th period study hall sophomore year in high school.  I barely knew him then, though he would become my best friend through college and right up to today.

“What?…I’m studying.”  Frog was a bit of a nerd; well I thought he was at the time.  First he was smart, second he was the football team equipment manager.  I would become captain of the team our senior year.  So Frog was a nerd, I was a stud; except the nerd was getting laid…me not so much.

Anyway…in this study hall Frog was all I had; I had something to show and I had to show someone.

“Frog, check this out.” I closed one nostril of my nose and exhaled slowly out the other.  A high pitched loud whistle pierced the air. 

“No friggin way!  Do that again.” Frog whispered.

So I did it again and we both melted into silent sniggering.

“What is that?”  Mr. Barnes the study monitor barked.  Mr. Barnes was the meanest, nastiest, detention-handingoutiest study hall monitor in the history of study hall monitors.

I let out another stealth whistle. 

Mr. Barnes was irate.  Detention pad in hand he scoured the room for the offender.  No one in the room except Frog and I, knew where the whistle came from.  We sniggered, whistled and tormented Mr. Barnes the rest of the period.

The next day Frog told everyone about my peculiar ability to whistle through my nose.  I rehearsed all day long.  When 7th period came, half of the room knew about my stealth whistle talent.  They were all anxiously awaiting the whistling torture I was going to give Mr. Barnes, the meanest study monitor in all of Westfield High history.

When the bell rang, the pre-study hall hubbub ended.  An eerie hush hung over the cafeteria, as by now the entire room knew of my whistling ability and awaited the Mr. Barnes torment. 

“Now!” Frog whispered, and I collapsed one nostril and let blow out the other.  “Woosh”…Woosh? I blew again, and again nothing.  Frog held up his hands in that “I don’t know kinda way,” for the entire hall to see.

That’s it, shows over, nothing to see (or hear) here. 

The room went back to its normal study semi-buzz. 

“What happened?” Frog asked.

“Booger shifted” I answered with a shrug. 

And that was the end of “The Great Westfield High Nose Whistler of 1961.”  It was a legend that only Frog and myself experienced; a fleeting moment of greatness that somehow forged a lifelong friendship.



  1. So your 15 minutes of fame ended due to a shifted booger? Bummer. But you should have expected it....boogers have a limited shelf life.


  2. Hah, you are such a guy! I'm grinning, hubby's chuckling.

  3. Hilarious story! My senior year I had 4 classes and because of the alphabet seating law in school had to set next to a guy who would catch flies, tear off the wings and then eat them. Yuk :/

  4. Great story. By the way, "Booger Shift" would be the best name for a rock band, ever.

  5. Yeah, those boogers can be unpredictable like that. Great story! You would have been a fun guy to sit next to in class. I was always the one laughing and talking in class, always cracking a joke or finding the funny in any situation. You and I would have gotten along very well as classmates :)

  6. Dreamer. Had it been Frog, he would have understood there would be no two day run on such an ethereal situation.

  7. Those damn boogers always getting in the way of greatness

  8. JH,
    That's some memory... just when I thought you were real old you shock me with this story.


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